


The Time Inbetween

by Karategrl80



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Anxiety, Car Accidents, Depression, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Grey-Asexual Dean Winchester, Grief/Mourning, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Mental Health Issues, No Present Character Death, Not Beta Read, Post-Death in the Family, Questioning Dean Winchester, Teacher Dean Winchester, Unreliable Narrator, Werecats, at least for now, in the past, sporadic posting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-16 16:15:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13639806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karategrl80/pseuds/Karategrl80
Summary: What happens when all your emotions hit you all at once and you just can't seem to figure out what to do with them?Dean has always loved his job as a teacher, and in the past has found great satisfaction in both learning and teaching.  But the past two years have been hard.  Having lost his mother and then being laid up after ACL surgery, everything just kept being pushed down until...well until it just couldn't anymore.  So, honestly, when he arrives home after a long emotional night and there is a beautiful black werecat outside his front door, he figures he's either hit the jackpot or totally lost his mind...





	1. It began with a text

**Author's Note:**

> *peers out from behind her computer*  
> Um...hi...I'm super nervous about this...so....yea...  
> It is totally un-beta'd so all the mistakes are totally mine...  
> And I haven't written anything in a long, long time...so..any encouragement would be greatly appreciated...  
> please let me know if there is anything that is not tagged that should be...  
> ok, bye!  
> *ducks back behind computer*

I was just about to leave the football game.  I was already in my car, removing some layers so I could actually drive without feeling like the stay puft marshmallow, when I received the text.

Benny 8:50 pm:  Hey brotha, how ya doin?

*sigh*  Anyone else I would have lied--Doing great, just leaving a football game, yea, I went with some coworkers, halftime show was nice (cause that's all I go to see, I fucking hate football).  But I couldn’t do that with Benny.  He wouldn’t have texted without a specific reason, and I knew I’d given him a pretty concerning one recently.

Dean 8:54 pm:  Having a rough week, to be honest

I buckled my seat belt, started my car, and waited a moment.  No immediate response.  Shrugging my shoulders, I pulled out of the parking lot of the middle school--the high school football stadium being one of only a few clues that the middle school was once the high school a long, long, time ago.  I manage to pull out and drive one block before Benny texts back.

Benny 8:57 pm:  Anything I can do to help

Benny 8:58 pm:  You know I am here for you if you ever need

I don’t really know why that broke me.  Maybe I was just waiting for someone to actually say something, instead of just dancing around me like I was gonna explode into a million pieces.  Whatever it was, I felt a tightness in my chest, and even if I hadn’t wanted to respond back, it hurt so badly I wouldn’t have been able to continue driving anyway.  Luckily, there were a couple of parking spaces available on the side of the road, and I slid into one and placed the car in park.

Dean 8:59 pm:  Dunno...this whole start of school has just been bad...the past two years it’s just been one thing after the other

Dean 8:59 pm:  Actually, r u home?

Dean 9:01 pm:  And now there is nothing going on so it is all catching up with me and Im not really handling it well

Dean 9:01 pm:  I think, at least

Dean 9:02 pm:  I thought it would get better after I got back into a routine, but it really isn’t

Benny 9:02 pm:  I am home

Dean 9:03 pm:  I’m nearby, can I come over?

Benny 9:03 pm:  It’s hard when life’s grief hits so delayed

Benny 9:03 pm:  of course

Benny 9:04 pm:  You are always welcome

Dean 9:04 pm:  Thanks, I was just leaving a fb game when you texted

Benny 9:05 pm:  All I am doing is prepping for apple picking tomorrow.  No other plans tonight except sleep

Benny 9:06 pm:  so come on over

Dean 9:06 pm:  K omw

Benny 9:07 pm: * _Dancing candy corn gif*_

As I looked in disbelief at the obnoxiously happy gif that now danced on my phone screen, I realized somewhere during the exchange that tears rolled down my cheeks, my breathing was shallow and fast--and that pain was still in my chest, although it seemed to have unclenched just a smidge.  I wiped away the tears and took a few deep breaths to get a hold of myself and calm down.  No need to get into an accident in the 15 minute drive to Benny’s cause I was an idiot...well more of an idiot than usual, at least.  

I pulled down the sunvisor and slid open the mirror, so I could assess the damage caused by my mini-breakdown.  Not too awful, eyes weren't bloodshot, but were definitely watery.  I’m complimented on my eyes all the time, their emerald shade seems to be quite compelling.  I get loads more compliments on my eyes after I’ve been crying.  It does something to the pigments, makes the colors deeper and brighter.  I always want to just shake those people…*Hello, can you not see?  That I am crying? But all you can see is that I have nice eyes?  Is that supposed to make me feel better?*

Uggh.  I shut the mirror and slam the sunvisor against the roof of the car.  I took another deep breath, which still shook a little as I breathed out, but I needed to get this show on the road, or Benny would call and check on me.  I wiped my eyes of the new tears that formed, put my car into drive, and pulled back out onto the road.


	2. Breaking

When I get to Benny's I don't bother knocking...I know the door will have been left unlocked.  I walk in...I can hear his partner, Andrea, and their roommate chatting in the computer/guest room about something or the other.  I walk around the chaise section of their sofa and curl up in the corner, where the chase section meets the couch section, my usual spot.  It's like a little nest.  Benny's sitting in his usual spot at the other end of the couch, watching TV and fooling around on his laptop.  But when I sit, he puts the laptop to the side and looks at me.

"What's going on?"

I look down at my hands, which are laying haphazardly in my lap.

"I think its just..."

I look up at the ceiling, then down again...briefly at Benny...but not long enough to make eye contact, cause that's more then I can handle right now.

"I think..well it might have started..probably sooner than this but..I noticed like a week before school started...I didn't want to go to school...like, not at all..not just your usual bummed out cause summer is ending thing...like...I wanted to quit not go to school..." I quickly glance up at Benny, and he nods...a teacher himself, he knows what I mean.  I turn my gaze down before I begin speaking again.  "I didn't go back to school shopping...nothing...no lesson plans...didn't even like going back on the teacher's first day.  Didn't wanna see no one, talk to no one...barely set up my classroom...nothing...you know, you usually get excited by that crap...nothing.."

My voice fails me for a while. I swallow, hard.  I feel hyperaware of everything around me...Benny's gaze seems to bore holes in me...Andrea's voice from down the hallway, a car passing on the road.  My mind feels empty. What was I trying to say?  Fuck.

"My mom...and then..I was just figuring that out...when I tore my ACL...and..I was focused on that and physical therapy and now...there's nothing going on and.."

There are tears streaming down my face...uggh, again.  

"And everything just caught up with you," Benny finishes for me.

"Yea, I think so," I reply, still talking to my lap. 

We are silent for a while, and I focus on my breathing and trying to get my thoughts to follow some sort of logical pattern.

"You know you are always welcome here," Benny states.  I nod.  "Have you thought about therapy?  Andrea and I go..it has helped, a lot.." He trails off...

I struggle to find my voice, and when I do, it is quiet. "Yea, I have..in the past..and its been good, its just..a pain..to do and I haven't been able to..." fuck, Dean, finish a coherent thought, already! "New insurance, don't know the procedure, you know?  And searching someone out...those lists...they are so intimidating...and calling...making the appointment...I just..."  I pull my knees up towards my chest, and wrap my arms around me, and stare at my knees.  There is nothing special about how I feel.  Everyone goes through this shit, and I feel dumb for feeling like crap.  Uggh.  I hate to bother Benny with this, I just...I couldn't hold on anymore.  "I am getting up..and going to work...but I haven't felt this shitty since Sam got married..and moved out..I'm not sleeping or eating or anything...I'm so fucking lonely but at the same time I just want to lock myself in my house and never come out again."

I finally find the courage to look up at Benny, and I'm dumbfounded.  Because there are tears in his eyes.  What the fuck?  Why is he crying?  I want to ask, but I can't seem to get the question out.  I stare at him confused as fuck.  

"I think," he says, "We should plan dinner." I blink, uncomprehendingly, unprepared for the change in topic.

"It will be good for both of us," he continues.  "We're both bad at keeping in touch..and we're both busy...but if we put it on the calendar then it's there and pre-planned and we'll stick to it." Yup, that fits us to the t.  We have a funny relationship, Benny and I.  We started teaching in the same district, but after Benny left for a new district we remained friends..we were both working on our Masters and continued to take classes together.  Since then, we've had long stretches where we haven't seen each other, but when we do talk it is as if no time as passed at all.  Not like with some people, where it is awkward.  We just pick up where we left off, and catch up, like it was nothing.  You don't get that with a lot of people, and Benny is special to me for that.  Plus, he is the only one of my friends that I feel like I can really be myself.  I don't ever have to worry about being judged by him about anything.  And that's probably what got me here tonight.

"OK, that sounds good..when...when are you free?"  I always ask...because I can't give a date...I can't deal with the thought that I'm asking someone to possibly bend their schedule around mine.  I try to be as flexible as I can, because I'm afraid if I'm not, they are going to say no, and I can't handle that.  _Although_ , a little nagging thought bugs at me, _if you weren't so damn flexible, you probably wouldn't be quite as far up this shit creek without your paddle as you are._   I bat the thought away, and go to stand up and join Benny in the kitchen to stare at his calendar.  I dig my phone out of my pocket and we agree on a date.  Cool.  This is good, I have something to look forward to.  I can use that.  We hug, and he asks if I'm okay.  I shrug.  I don't want to lie. "I'm better, I think," I say.  Not a lie.  The horrible crushing pain in my chest is gone, so that's got to count as "better."  


	3. Unexpected House Guest (cat?)

My ride home was filled with emotions. I can't even describe what they were...I mean, I have a hard enough time identifying "I feel sad", so this....it was like someone opened a door and all these feelings came rushing out...I don't even know what I am feeling them about...the gush of emotions is overwhelming, after two months of not really feeling anything at all.  I turn up the music in the car, focusing on the beat and letting my emotions just flow, afraid that the awful pain in my chest is going to return.  By this time it has gotten late, it's past 12 am, and despite driving on a major thruway on a Friday night, there aren't a lot of cars on the road.

So when the sports car suddenly cut in front of me, out of nowhere and for no good reason, I was utterly unprepared, as I slammed on my brakes and prayed as a sheet of white seemed to fall in front of my eyes.

******

My eyes peel open slowly.  My heart is still pounding, breaths short and shallow, and there are prickles running up and down my extremities.  I take a mental stock.  I think I"m still in one piece, and my car is currently off the road, facing a guard rail, although it appears I didn't hit it. There is no sign of the sports car, or anyone else.  My hands are clenching the steering wheel.  I carefully straighten my fingers and run a hand through my hair.  I shift the car into park. My hands are shaking.  That was fucking close.  I take a couple of deep breaths, while I run my hands across my body...head, torso, legs...checking to make sure everything is where it belongs, and to try and convince my body I'm no longer in danger.  Once I feel calm enough, I carefully put my car in reverse and back away from the guard rail.  I shut the radio off, the beat that had been coursing through me before now only grates on my frayed nerves.  The silence is overwhelming, particularly the silence in my brain.  I think I must be in shock.

I'm not really sure how I arrive at my condo complex, but I do, and luck is with me, because one of the parking spots closest to my condo are open.  I'm super thankful at that moment for the parking spot, and for the fact that my condo is on the first floor.  I'm pretty confident that stairs are beyond me at the moment.  I pull my school bag from where it had fallen off the seat, and drag myself out of the car.  My knees almost collapse at the sudden strain of holding my weight--my legs are shaking and not very pleased with me at all.  I lean against the car for a moment and take a few additional breaths, before pushing off and heading towards my condo.

Where there is a fucking CAT curled up on my welcome mat.  And not just any cat, a HUGE cat.  A huge black...panther??? who is staring at me with startling blue eyes.  I've had it...either I'm fucking high, or have totally lost any connection to reality.  I look around, as if there would be someone else out and about at 1 am to share my hallucination with me.  Set in front of the cat is a tan Jansport bookbag, like that is the most common thing in the world.  Is this...an actual were-cat?  I'd heard of them, of course, who hasn't--but I never expected to actually SEE one.  They are elusive, and known for keeping to themselves.  I can't really blame them, I mean, if I could magically change from human form to cat form, I'd want to stay away from the crazy people that make up the rest of the population too.

That doesn't however, explain WHY this one is sitting here, in front of my door.  I carefully take a few steps towards it, and it suddenly pushes itself to its feet, grabbing the top of its bookbag, and moving sideways, so I can reach my door, before sitting, placing its bookbag solidly in front of it. It tilts its head at me curiously, staring at me with those unfathomly blue eyes, as if questioning my sanity.   _Yea, me too_ _, cat_ , I think.  I creep towards my door, slowly opening the screen door and propping it open with my shoulder, all the while keeping an eye on the cat that is RIGHT THERE at my feet, still looking at me like I'm the weird one.  I shake my head, and unlock the door, pushing the door open with my foot.

The instant the door opens, the cat has picked up its bookbag and rushed inside, in the sneaky way that only a cat can do.  I'm left standing at the door.  "Sure, come on in," I say, basically to no one, before I drag myself through the door as well, and dump everything I'm carrying at the entrance to my living room.


	4. Breakfast is Served

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you wonderful guest people who left kudos(es?) You are tooo kind!!
> 
> Thank you for reading, and this is totally un-beta'd..and I've been struggling with keeping tenses and narrator pov the same, so if I fail at some point I apologize.

Once I get fully inside my living room, I see no sign of the cat. Which is fine, I'm pretty okay with having hallucinated the thing. I blindly trudge into my bedroom, and shuck my clothes into a corner, while grabbing a random pair of sweatpants to wear to bed. I flop on my bed and pass out--the last image to float through my awareness before the darkness of sleep takes me is the random cat that I hallucinated entering my house that evening.

******

In the morning, awareness was slow to come to me, but between the sunlight that was infiltrating my eyelids and the smell of freshly cooked pancakes....Wait a second--who opened the black out curtains in my room? Who the hell was here?  What the fuck??

I roll out of bed and take the three steps from my room to the  kitchen to find this random dude, chilling in front of my stove, with a bowl of batter and a stack of pancakes that have already been made.

"Who the fuck are you? What are you doing in my house....cooking pancakes??" I'm half yelling, half stuttering, and confused as fuck.

The guy looks at me, head tilted like a dog would do, with this amused look on his face.

"Dean, you let me in last night, don't you remember???" he says, perfectly calm, despite my obvious agitation.

"I..I...let...you..in? How do you know my name???  I don't know YOUR name, and I think I would have remembered letting a hands..a..umm...guy in..I mean I was pretty out of it but THAT I would have remembered, all that happened was that random cat hallucination..." I trail off, as the guy just looks at me expectantly.

"The cat???" I say, unbelieving.  "You're the CAT??? I really let a CAT IN MY HOUSE!!!!"

Unknown guy's face brightens, a full out smile on his face.  He flips the pancake currently on the stove, and then takes a step towards me, hand reached out for a handshake. "Castiel, nice to meet you!"

"Casti...what?"

"Castiel.  I know, it's a mouthful."

"What kinda name is that?" I realize its probably not the most sensitive thing, but I think I deserve some leeway when I have just woken up, not had any coffee, and discovered this random dude cooking in my kitchen.

Luckily, Castiel doesn't seem to be particularly offended. "A werecat name--we have a propensity to end things in -iel"

"Fantastic, but I have a 'propensity'"--I emphasize the word to point out normal people just don't use words like that--"to not call people weird ass names, so you are just gonna hafta deal with 'Cas.'"

The newly named Cas shrugs. "I've been called worse."  He moves back to the stove, despite the fact I never actually shook his hand, to remove the pancake that just finished cooking, and pours new batter into the frying pan.  "Do you think you could maybe put together some plates and forks or something?" He grabs a pancake off the the pile and bites into it--"Unless you'd prefer to eat with your hands..I'm okay either way but the syrup gets messy."

The syrup gets messy.  I just can't even.  This is apparently my life.  So, I guess I'm setting the table...


	5. Pancake Philosophy

I'm pretty impressed to find that I actually have clean dishes and silverware.  This is a rare enough occurrence that I keep boxes of plastic utensils so I can still eat without freaking out about my lack of clean dishes, cause that will quickly spiral out of control.  Just as I finish setting out the dishes, utensils, and digging out some napkins, Cas delivers a giant stack of pancakes and a plate of bacon, and sets in the center of the table.  He looks at me, eyebrows scrunched together and head tilted to the side.

"Aren't you going to sit?" he asks.

I shake my head disbelievingly.  "Yea, I suppose I am." I might as well enjoy the food, right?  I pull out a seat and as I settle down, he does the same.  He looks at me expectantly.  Apparently, I've got to start everything.  Well, no issues getting me to start chowing down on some awesome looking pancakes!  I stab the top three pancakes with my fork, and deposit them on my plate, followed by a heaping serving of bacon.  And, because I am who I am, I proceed to cut my pancakes into squares and make little bacon sandwiches out of them.  I spear one with my fork and as I go to eat it I look across the table at Cas, who hasn't started eating.  Instead, he is sitting there, with this funny half smile--one of those where just the very ends of his mouth turn upwards, and his eyes show just a hint of amusement.  I pause, mini pancake sandwich halfway to my mouth.  "What?"  I complain.

He shakes his head at me.  "Nothing, Dean," he says.  "You have a unique way of eating pancakes, that's all."

Oh, he doesn't know the can of worms he just opened.  "Well," I begin, "Syrup sucks." I ignore his disbelieved look as I continue.  "As you've just pointed out, it is messy, and worse--it gets soaked into the pancake and makes it soggy and gross.  This way"--I gesture at my fork--"neither of those things happen." I pop my mini sandwich into my mouth, and as I chew I sit back to see what Cas does with this information.

He only shakes his head slowly, and proceeds to drop a single pancake on his plate and carefully pour syrup in some indeterminate pattern, then begins intricately carving the pancake.  Oh boy.  If I want to figure out why this werecat magically appeared on my doorstep, I'm going to have to push this along a little.

"So...Cas..." I wait until I have his attention before I continue--"I thought werecats came to people who need healing...and I don't need healing." I gesture to myself with my fork.  "There's nothing wrong with me, see?"  I promptly shove another pancake on my fork and stuff it in my mouth while I wait for his reaction.

His response is slow in coming. "Is a physical wound the only way a person can need healing?"  He looks at me curiously.

"Aw, come on, man, you gonna get me with that talk crap? Fuck, you're as bad as Sam!" I shoot Cas a serious side eye while I munch on another bite of pancake.  I chew angrily...why the hell does everyone keep trying to talk to me about this shit, anyway?  Its not like talking about crap that already happened is gonna make it go away, nothing is going to make it go away!  "I can't do this without coffee," I grumble, and lurch out of the chair to start the coffee pot, which also means I don't have to look Cas in the eye while I calm myself down.

Cas is silent while I rinse out the carafe and set up the grounds in the filter.  I dunno if he is watching me, or has gone back to eating his pancake, honestly I could care less.  I'm gonna just stand here and ignore him.  The nerve he has, storming into my house, uninvited, and then insinuating that I need 'healing'.  He did cook me breakfast, which is, as much as I hate to admit it, a point in his favor.  Speaking of breakfast, where did all this food come from, anyway--I certainly didn't have it stocked in my very empty refrigerator! Just then, the coffee maker gurgles its last drops, and I focus on fixing my coffee.  It doesn't really matter, anyway--after all, I already have a supernatural werecat sitting in my kitchen, why should I question where he got the food from?

It occurs to me that I should offer Cas some coffee, so I turn to back to the table and ask, "you want some coffee?" Brilliant, Dean.

"No, thank you, Dean.  Caffeine is dangerous for cats."  He doesn't look offended, but I, however, feel like an idiot.  I like practically tried to poison him.  I might be annoyed with him, but seriously, I don't want to accidentally kill him or anything.

"Oh dude, sorry, I really didn't know."  I'm really racking up the points here this morning. I need to get some of this caffeine in me so I can maybe start making sense of this madness I've been dropped into.

Cas looks at me calmly, like I didn't just have a hissy fit and try to kill him within the span of ten minutes. "It is no worry, Dean.  I would not expect you to know how to care for a cat.  It is a common mistake.  Do you have, by any chance, herbal tea?  I would not mind that."

I think for a moment.  "Yea, I think I do, actually. I think Sam left some herbal something or the other when he was here last.  Lemme check."  I dig through my cabinets, until I come across a cardboard cylinder of tea.  "I've got this lemongrass stuff...it says it's herbal and no caffeine?"  I hold the label towards Cas, so he can see. 

"That would be perfect, thank you."  Why the hell does he have to be so damn polite?  I place a mug of water in the microwave--I sure hope he wasn't expecting me to pull out a kettle and heat the water that way--and when it dings I pull it out and hand the mug and the teabag over to Cas.

"You want....milk or something? I dunno what you do with tea.." Well, I don't, I don't drink the stuff, my brother does.  Why the hell he left it here is beyond me; did he really think I was just going to suddenly take up tea drinking?

"Actually," Cas interrupts my inner rant at my brother, "do you have any honey?  If not, I do not need anything."

"I dunno.  I'll look..if my brother left his tea, maybe he left his honey, too?"  I dig through the cabinet where I found the tea, and was not entirely surprised to find a jar of honey there as well.  "Well would you look at that?"  I hand Cas the jar and a spoon, and grab my coffee and collapse back into my seat.

The werecat and I stare at each other over our respective drinks.

It's going to be a long morning.


	6. Cleaning House

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um....hi?
> 
> Errr...so I fell into the abyss for a while (Since March 8th, according to AO3), but I recently dug myself out to write in the Sastiel Love Week, and I was like, gosh I should check out that story I started...a long....long...time ago....
> 
> And there was half a chapter sitting there, just waiting to be worked on.
> 
> If there is anyone actually out there, sorry for the wait. 
> 
> And once Sastiel Love Week is over, I'm going to post those as well. 
> 
> As always, this is unbeta'd and I suck at tenses and all that jazz.

I hate when people know how to make you talk.  When they just...sit there...and let the silence do the work for them.  Its so uncomfortable.  And its even WORSE when you know that's the game, and you STILL can't stop yourself.  Because, despite how much I hate talking about shit...and yet...the silence is overwhelming.  I don't even know what I want to say.  What I'm supposed to say.  I just want the silence to stop.  This is why I'm usually friends with people who talk a lot.  They don't notice I don't talk.

I once helped out a friend who had just some kinda surgery--tonsils, wisdom teeth...something, and she wasn't supposed to talk much.  I stayed cause she wasn't 'sposed to be alone for 24 hours after, and that's what I'm good at.  Anyway, she usually talks a mile a minute, and was just as freaked out by the silence as am now.  I didn't care, I was happy chilling on the couch watching TV.  She was freaked, though.  "you sure you are okay, you are so quiet?" she'd said.  I'd known her for six, maybe seven years at that point.  She'd never noticed how much she talked and how little I talk?  But I do that.  Make friends with people who like to hear themselves talk.  Easier that way.  No one's ever listened to me growing up...I can't quite wrap my head around someone wanting to know what I'm thinking as an adult.  It's just too scary.  I'm a coward, I get it.

In any case, the werecat and I are both sitting at my kitchen table, sipping our respective drinks, and saying nothing.  I'm not playing this cat-game....

"So...I have to clean, cause the shit I've let pile up all over the place is driving me nuts. I am assuming you don't want to help...I wasn't really expecting company, and I'm not really up to entertaining..." I trail off, hoping I haven't offended the cat. I'm kind of annoyed he is here, and yet...I don't really want him to leave, either. Does that make sense? Why is everything so damn difficult?

"No worries. I have a laptop....as long as you don't mind me connecting to your WiFi?" he asks, hopefully. 

"No, not a problem at all...I mean, after all you cooked breakfast, go for it. I never changed it, you can just check the back of the router. I mean, that's all I'm gonna do..." I trail off...maybe it's inappropriate to have your guest figure out his own password? I don't know. What's the etiquette on WiFi passwords? 

He doesn't seem put off by my suggestion, though, and finishes his breakfast. He carefully balances his dishes in the sink, and looks at the leaning tower of dishes thoughtfully. "Maybe later I'll do a load of dishes, if you don't mind...we're going to need them while I'm here." He looks at me seriously. "NO TAKE OUT."

I roll my eyes. "Okay, whatever. Anything I can get you before I get working?"

He shakes his head. "Nope. I'll be sure to bug you if I need anything." His words are said without inflection, but his eyes sparkle, like he's bantering with me. I can't figure this guy....cat? out. Whatever. I'll think about it later. Right now all I care about is getting rid of some of this clutter before it eats my house. By the time I've set up some Led Zeppelin on my phone and hooked it up to the Bluetooth speaker, and am ready to start, Cas has made himself at home on my couch, sipping his tea and scrolling through his email on his laptop. Oh boy. It was going to be a weird day.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!
> 
> *waves*
> 
> err....
> 
> So, the truth is, I have to be in a certain mood to write this, and its frustrating because I know how it begins, and how it ends, but the mushy stuff that happens in the middle...not so much. And, this results in incredibly sporadic updates. I'm so sorry. If you are reading this, thank you, I greatly appreciate it, and it's not abandoned, just...requires a certain type of spoon that is only available at certain times.
> 
> This has not been beta read, and I struggle with tenses, so I apologize strongly. If you notice something particularly egregious, please feel free to point it out.

By two pm or so, the snow had stopped, and I went out and cleaned off the car. Cas came out with me although he wasn't much help. He was back in his cat form, and spent most of his time jumping and digging through the snow drifts. 

“Dude, if you’re gonna dig, could ya at least dig out my wheels?” I yell. He stops and sits, and stares at me with that head tilt again. He stands up and trots over to the car, and starts digging out the front wheels. I didn’t expect him to actually agree to help, so this turn of events was awesome. In no time, we had the car dug out, and I trudged back inside to warm up and get dry, Cas loping behind me.

When I emerge from my room, Cas is curled up in my reading chair, back in human form. 

“We should go out and buy some food, you have nothing worthwhile to eat in your refrigerator.” he states.

“What are you talking about, I have a whole pie!” I exclaim. “Isn’t that enough?”

Cas blinks uncomprehendingly at me. “NO, Dean, it’s not ENOUGH!” He shakes his head. “You need better food to sustain yourself. Trust me. If you eat better, you’ll feel better.”

I look at him skeptically. “I dunno, Cas, ain’t much that makes me feel better than some pie.”

He sighs dejectedly. I get the distinct feeling he is beginning to think I’m a lost cause. I could save him the trouble, and let him know that he’s right, and then he could get on with...whatever werecats do when they aren’t sitting in random people’s condos trying to make them eat rabbit food. He has a point though. I don’t have any food in the house, beyond some canned soup stored for the inevitable zombie apocalypse. (always be prepared!)

“Alright, fine,” I agree. It’ll be good to get out of the condo for a bit before cabin fever sets in.   
________  
The grocery store was an “experience.” Firstly, there were all the “the world is ending we need to buy out the grocery store” people, which, honestly, if the world was ending, these would be the first people to go--you have to be prepared BEFORE the apocalypse, not start AFTER the apocalypse. But whatever, I digress. I do that a lot, I start thinking about one thing and before I know it I’m thinking about what kind of pie to have for dessert. Which, for the record, Cas refused to let me buy pie. I kept trying to sneak it in the cart, and then as soon as I turned my back it was gone. I don’t know how he did it, it’s like he just *poofed* it out of the cart. Weird. Maybe its some kind of werecat power or something. Whatever.

The point, I guess, is...I...what was I talking about? Oh, yea, the grocery store. So, the late-to-the-snow-storm-party-people were out in droves, clogging up the aisles and generally being a nuisance. I would have turned around, gone home, and ordered some Chinese food, if it weren’t for Cas. How the hell he had the patience to calmly walk around all the people and do all the “excuse me’s”, and “thank you’s” and “have a nice day’s” and “not a problem’s” was beyond me. And somehow he found stuff to put in the cart that wasn’t pie or Kraft mac n cheese. A whole bunch of vegetables and fruits and something he called “keen-wa” but is spelled quinoa and therefore should be pronounced “keynoah” and what the fuck is up with that? There was a package of these giant mushrooms that you could use as a plate, they were so big and flat. Cas rolled his eyes at me when I asked him if we were gonna use them for plates. “They’re portabella mushrooms, Dean. And we are going to eat them, not use them as plates.” Yea, that’s what he thinks, I’m not eating no plate fungi! 

Anyhow, when we get to the cash register, there’s a whole load of food I’ve never heard of, and no pie in sight. Not how I really wanted to spend my money. So I was pretty stoked when Cas said he’d pay for the groceries. Of course, I made some token resistance, as I did feel a little bad that this stranger was basically buying me all this fancy food for a week. However, he insisted, saying that it was the least that he could do, since he was infringing on my space, and he did buy food that HE likes, after all. 

Long story short: we survived the grocery store. Success!


End file.
